The Hazard Chronicles

This is one of those weeks that is difficult to write about. Difficult, because a simple register of events doesn't come remotely close to being an accurate portrayal of the experience we actually shared together. It would take a well written opera- well beyond my artistic capacity- to approach the scope of this last week in the form of media. And even then, the sweeping music and drama unfolding on stage would only be the echo of an echo of the real thing. A reflection. A shadow. The scent on the wind that recalls to mind some long-lost memory hidden deep inside.

Which then presents me with this fool's errand- To "eff" the ineffable. What you are about to read is but a frail grasping for an unreachable star. But what more can I do, but to reach? To strive is to be human, and even more so to fail. But I'll do my best.

*****

We drove out of town last Thursday just as Wendy (Rachel's mom) was flying in. She would hang out with our kids for the next week, and we'll get a complete report on their activities in the next blog post. As for Rach and me, we were headed to our first stop- the North Cascades.

We woke up fresh the next day and ready for some climbing. The plan was to sport climb one day, rest, and then tackle "Fly Boys," an 18 pitch route that has been near the top of our bucket list for some time. We were feeling good on the rock, and Rachel had some of the strongest leads of her life.

About half-way through our day we got a phone call. It was Justin, our soon-to-be guide and chef for the next leg of our journey. He was merely confirming some food preferences, but then left us with a cheery "Awesome- I'm looking forward to meeting you tomorrow in person!"

Wait- what? Tomorrow we would be a thousand feet up on a cliff. Right?

Wrong.

Turns out we had some dates mixed up. No worries, but it's a good thing he called. We quickly did some recalculating, and then finished off our day climbing. That night we drove to a charming little seaside inn, followed by a ferry-ride the next morning.

Getting on the ferry

The following bit passes by in a blur. We landed on San Juan Island. We ate breakfast next to the ocean in a picturesque little café. We got on a bus. And then...well...it is easier at this point to just get to the photos. Lots and lots of photos.

This was my view for much of the following three days. During that time we camped, kayaked, hiked, and explored around the San Juan Islands. We ate gourmet food prepared by our guide, saw tons of wildlife, made some friends, and felt pampered. What a trip- Seriously!

That's me. You can tell that I took this early in the trip because I am not sunburned yet.

Us on an island. That is all.

Kind of a cool place- we camped on Stuart Island and as Rach and I explored the place we stumbled on this old library that is still operational. There are only 17 full-time residents of this island. There is no grocery story, and yet they maintain a library. I love it!

This is a museum of some sort. Not super memorable, to be honest. Cute building though.

So pretty!

Many of the rock faces are covered in flora just like this. It's a little detail that's easy to miss, but that affects the entire feeling of the area.

Yes, I took a photo of the inside of a porta-potty, because this has to be the best-maintained toilet in the entire northwest. I can't even get my kids to keep their bedrooms this clean and organized!

I got up one morning and walked to the top of the island. This is proof that I was there. Apparently, this picture is also somewhat incriminating, because I had to walk through a bunch of private property to get there. Better to ask forgiveness than permission? It just looked like a bunch of trees to me.

If interested, you should click on this photo to make it bigger. This is where we ate lunch one day. The sun was shining and the water was so clear.

In case you couldn't tell, that is Rachel sleeping on a log.

The kid is Ollie and the dude is Phill. They were great companions on this trip.

And this is Justin, our guide. He gets four thumbs-up!

Can you see me? My arms are out like the eagle that is flying above me.

I woke Rachel up from her log to take this photo. It was worth it though.

Yep- we really did kayak. I sat in the back so that Rach couldn't tell if I was helping or not. Apparently, I was not at the time this photo was taken.

Another hike we went on

We did a sunset hike to a lighthouse, and then we saw a pod of whales swim right by us. It really was pretty magical. I mean seriously- a sunset...and a light house...on an island...with orcas...and they were breaching. Does it get better than this? I think not.

That's me, and if you look right above me you can see two whales (maybe make the photo bigger if you really care).

It was a super memorable evening.

I promised Rach that I would include this photo, even though nobody will know what it is. Well, let me tell you. At one of our camps we had these two harbor seal friends that hung out with us most of the evening. We even named them. They would swim right up to the shore, and then at the last moment before hitting rocks they would turn in unison back out into the bay. Pretty fun to watch.

I didn't take this photo. I stole it off the internet. But these Pacific Madrones were everywhere, often in solitary and commanding locations, as if keeping watch over the waters. I really like these trees.

Misty morning

Have you ever tried to stare down an owl? It cannot be done.

Floating off into the sunset together. Poetic.

Okay. If you are still with me after all those photos, then you have more patience than I do when it comes to reading about people who are really pretty ordinary. I'm not through yet though, because as soon as our kayak trip was over we went back to the Cascades. We had messed up the timing on the first go-around, but we had a weather window of exactly one day, and we were not going to miss this climb if we could help it.

I have to say, Fly Boys did not disappoint. I think it is a love-it-or-hate-it kind of climb based on online reviews, but I fall solidly into the first group. It is 18 pitches of fairly sustained climbing at a moderate grade. Pretty good, right? But if that's not enough , consider that our rack consisted of just 20 quickdraws. Wild, right? Where else in the United States can you climb 18 pitches of technical rock with just 20 quickdraws? There might be a few others out there, but there was rarely a moment when I wasn't smiling on this ascent.

On the route description, the written account used the word "wild" to describe parts of almost every pitch. It wasn't wrong, but it was certainly a bit overused. We started making a rule that every time we did a cool move we would yell down "that was wild!"

I suppose this requires a little bit of explanation. Sometime during our kayaking trip I looked down and the top of my forearm was hideously swollen. Not a ton of pain, but it didn't look good. Also, I could feel things catching weird when I moved my thumb. I don't really know how it happened, but I guess I tore a tendon sheath in my wrist. It didn't slow me down too much, but I did worry for a minute on the climb that I might be making it worse. I did climb with this brace on, which was interesting. After about 5 pitches, things were pretty sore. Around ten pitches in, my thumb and pointer finger had gone numb, probably from the swelling. By the end of the climb, I was reduced to the use of just my pinkey and ring finger without shooting sharp pain up my arm. A little worrisome, I guess. It really didn't do much to distract me while climbing though, and I am super glad that we completed the route. That night, we found a hot tub to soak in and things are definitely on the mend. I am still able to work and do daily chores, but it might be a while before I climb hard again.

We had rented some fat-tire mountain bikes to leave at the top of the climb. The descent on the gravel road took 35 exhilarating minutes- about the same amount of time it had taken to drive down in our car the night before. Man, that was fun! I can see why so many of my friends are into mountain biking. I can also see why so many of them are always injured from mountain biking. It seems like the sport that keeps giving and giving, right up until the moment it kills you and takes your soul. I already have skiing and climbing to do that for me...but my goodness, that was a good time!

I love that I am married to my adventure buddy. We have fun together.

That evening we went to a neat little brewery next to the river and ordered burgers. What a great end to the day. But then, there was the cherry on top. As we sat there, bone tired, fulfilled, and taking in the perfect ambiance of the location, a performer came down and started performing opera. Yes, you read that right. Opera! Like, songs from Carmen or The Barber of Seville, belted out in a beautiful, rich baritone, in a cowboy town in the middle of nowhere.

That was wild.